Ramblings
Alone, I stand
Looking ahead, and back
Trails travelled and unknown.
Behind are the woods - wistful, grateful, sorrowful
can't just leave them behind, can I?
And yet, the sky ahead is turquoise.
A blissful wind slaps my cheeks,
the sun burns me a rich brown.
It stings... and feels alive.
What is it at the horizon?
A gathering storm, I must say,
as I get drawn towards its.
Crazy?
Ah... yes. Passion is crazy.
Being alive is being crazy.
Being happy is being crazy.
I laugh, and move ahead
as the tear drops behind...
Looking ahead, and back
Trails travelled and unknown.
Behind are the woods - wistful, grateful, sorrowful
can't just leave them behind, can I?
And yet, the sky ahead is turquoise.
A blissful wind slaps my cheeks,
the sun burns me a rich brown.
It stings... and feels alive.
What is it at the horizon?
A gathering storm, I must say,
as I get drawn towards its.
Crazy?
Ah... yes. Passion is crazy.
Being alive is being crazy.
Being happy is being crazy.
I laugh, and move ahead
as the tear drops behind...
Dear Anu,
ReplyDeleteExcellent poetry,
I was near the south cost of England and had visited 'Isle of Wight'the vast stretch of sea land and sky was just what you have described in your poem.
I would love to see more of such poems in future.
Thanks,
Dhyannistha
Thanks for the comment Dhyannishtha. Will definitely try and come up with more poems, like in the past :)
ReplyDelete